


A Guide to Musketeer Medicine

by evilmaniclaugh



Series: Musketeering for Dummies [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Crack, Humour, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:59:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilmaniclaugh/pseuds/evilmaniclaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humour.  Crack fic.   D'Artagnan makes a worrying discovery when he goes on a late night visit to the captain's office in search of some sympathy.  Spoilers for 1.10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide to Musketeer Medicine

D'Artagnan sighed loudly as he looked in the mirror at the swaddle of bandages that were currently disguising his rather lovely physique. It might well be just a graze, as Milady had told him many times over, but it still hurt a lot. Athos could have _killed_ him. The man was a wonderful mentor, but he should never be allowed out drunk and in charge of a deadly weapon.

The cunning plan was fast becoming a pain in the arse. D'Artagnan had been forced to listen to Milady whinge all night--woe is me this, woe is me that--all because the husband, she supposedly hated, was supposedly dead. The woman was self-obsessed and boring. Why didn't she remember that d'Artagnan was the one with the actual injuries?

Hiding a pillow in the bed, just in case the wailing widow returned for a spot more grieving, d'Artagnan climbed out of the window and headed for the garrison, hoping for some tea and sympathy from his friends. It had been a trying week to say the least.

A light was flickering in the captain's office. The man was forever burning the candle at both ends and d'Artagnan trundled happily up the stairs to ask him which out of town alehouse the inseparable idiots had chosen to secrete themselves in for the evening.

But all was not well, he discovered when he peered in through the window. Athos was laid out naked and unconscious on the large desk, which had hurriedly been cleared of all paperwork, whilst Treville, Aramis and Porthos were tending to him.

"We're losing him," cried Aramis in dismay. "He requires immediate resuscitation."

The captain, the most loyal and caring commander ever, bent over Athos' supine form and pressed his mouth to Athos' lips. D'Artagnan could barely breathe; he'd rush in to help, but fear had rooted him to the spot. What terrible thing had gone wrong? Milady would pay dearly for this.

After a while the soft groans indicated that Athos was reviving and d'Artagnan noted, with interest, the arousing effect a near death experience had on a man. In Athos' case it was surprisingly impressive. He was a grower for certain.

"Porthos, clean the wound site," ordered Treville. "We have mere minutes in which to save him."

"Yes, sir," said Porthos eagerly and bent his head to wash Athos' erection with broad strokes of his tongue.

Modern medicine was a mysterious and exhilarating matter, thought d'Artagnan as he rubbed at the front of his breeches.

"Aramis, clean my instrument," instructed Treville.

With a keen spirit Aramis knelt, clearly on a hunt for the correct implement, and it was only then d'Artagnan noticed that both men--he glanced across at Porthos--that all three men were naked beneath their surgeon's aprons. 

So this was the reason their uniforms lasted so well. It didn't, however, explain why they had appropriate medical garb to cover themselves. Still, Treville was renowned for being prepared for all eventualities. He was the best commander ever. They were the best bunch of soldiers and friends a man could wish for. D'Artagnan was feeling quite heated in his sentiment.

What on earth was happening now? Having given up the search for a scalpel Aramis had begun to clean the captain's personal tool in preparation. But for what?

Treville let out this throaty groan as Aramis laved him thoroughly, applying a good deal of suction from the sound of things. "Porthos, turn the patient over. I need to go in now or we'll lose him."

There was some shuffling around from the vicinity of the desk and d'Artagnan could have sworn he saw Athos with his mouth fastened around Porthos' statuesque prick. It must have happened accidentally in the transition from back to front.

"Gentlemen," warned Treville. "This is a matter of life and death, remember."

Groaning in obvious agony, Athos lay prone, half on the desk with his feet planted on the floor, hip distance apart. Not the most convenient position for surgery, d'Artagnan thought.

"Spreaders," ordered Treville.

"Yes, sir," said Aramis, dipping his fingers in lamp oil and then plunging them deep into Athos'...

Into Athos' _what_? D'Artagnan was certain the man had sustained an injury to the abdomen. This was most definitely not his abdomen and why did Aramis keep repeating the action over and over again? Why was Athos moaning in such a lusty way and grinding himself against the mahogany surface? Why was Porthos oiling Treville's cock with a delighted grin on his face. More to the point, why was the captain reciprocating?

Matters came to a head when Treville pushed Aramis aside and thrust himself into Athos' bottom with a long drawn out sigh of satisfaction. Watching them for a moment Porthos then bent Aramis over the back of a chair and, with a loud grunt, took him up the arse.

This wasn't medicine, realised d'Artagnan, hurriedly grappling inside his breeches for his excited cock. This was sex! They were all having sex together in the office.

"You're having sex," he said, stumbling into the room with his erection jutting proudly from his fist. "You're all having sex together in the office."

Treville looked first at d'Artagnan's glazed expression and then at the tightness of his balls and the engorgement of his prick. "Nurse, apply some liniment immediately or we'll lose the patient for certain," he said, his voice filled with urgency.

For some reason--probably to do with his deep depression over the loss of Constance--d'Artagnan was more than happy to oblige and with a swift dip in the oversized pot of lamp oil he worked his hand up and down the length of his cock until relief was upon him and he was able to obey orders, covering Athos with a liberal amount of salve. 

"You've saved him, nurse. Well done." With that Treville pulled Athos forward, wrapping a fist around his cock as he brought him off in thick spurts over the desk. Shuddering out his own orgasm he watched with approval as Porthos and Aramis finished within moments of each other. "And that, gentlemen, is how you enjoy a spot of role play," he said, after enough time had elapsed for them to recover their speech.

"Is this part of an initiation?" asked d'Artagnan querulously, feeling a tad self conscious after running uninvited into the captain's office with his breeches around his ankles and then ejaculating, in great quantity, over Athos' bare backside.

Athos quirked an eyebrow and looked around at everyone. "More a case of all for one and one for all," he said with a satisfied smirk.


End file.
